


The Incident

by Humangarbage



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humangarbage/pseuds/Humangarbage
Summary: Jefferson and Hamilton are assigned as co-editors on their school paper- confrontation, lust, love- etc.





	1. Chapter 1

_How the fuck did I end up here?_

 

The words spun around Alexander's mind over and over. Drowning out every other thought, wrapping themselves around his lungs until he couldn't breath through their suffocating weight. The only air that he could force himself to inhale came from the pants and moans coming from the one person that he hated more than anyone in the world.

 

The question was as inane as every other thought that seemed to cross his mind of late. He knew exactly how he got to this point in his life- pinned up against the wall of a shoddy broom closet by his enemy- a leg pressed up firmly against his crotch and teeth tearing into his bottom lip without an ounce of mercy.

 

* * *

 

6 Months Earlier

 

It all started on a day like any other, 6 months prior, when he had been sneaking out to the bleachers behind the school, hoping that the crisp autumn air would help snap the world into focus. As the doors leading out from the men's locker room to the track slammed shut behind him, he had realized that he wasn't the only one trying to escape the drudgery of high school for a few stolen moments.

 

There, right in front of him was Thomas Bane of His Goddamn Existence Jefferson, leaning against the brick wall of the school, hand resting on the back of James Madison's head as the other man went to town on his dick.

 

Hamilton froze in a moment of blind panic. He had no Earthly idea how to handle a situation like this. Jefferson had immediately noticed his presence, as he had been facing the very door that Hamilton had just emerged from. His partner, however, seemed to be completely unaware of what was happening, and chose that particular moment to let loose a loud, desperate moan that was only mostly muffled by the cock currently shoved deep in his throat.

 

Jefferson didn't seem to be in a huge hurry to make their interruption apparent to his partner. He locked eyes with the still frozen Hamilton as he scratched James' hair soothingly and gave another thrust into his mouth.

 

The amount of eye contact that Jefferson was making with him locked Hamilton in place, and he was helpless to do anything but watch as Madison continued to swallow Jefferson down- over and over. Jefferson, for a man receiving a blowjob, seemed almost bored, more than a little amused, and held a distinctive look of challenge in his eye as he continued to thrust his hips into his best friend's face.

 

Just as Hamilton had finally steeled himself to make a break for it, Jefferson gave him one last piercing glance, thrust one more time into Madison's mouth and let out a low, grumbling groan, as he came. Holding Hamilton's gaze. The. Entire. Time.

 

Hamilton felt a full body shudder go through him with the combination of the unsettling eye contact, and the low, desperate sound that ripped itself from Jefferson's throat.

 

It was at that moment that Hamilton's legs _finally_ decided to cooperate with the signals that his mind had been desperately trying to send to them since he first stepped out of the locker room doors and processed exactly what he had stumbled upon. He studiously ignored the tightness in his jeans, and spent the next two weeks convincing himself that the whole thing had been a crazy fever dream.

 

Jefferson, for the most part, seemed to be willing to let him go along with his own self-delusion. He made no mention of what Hamilton had started calling _T_ _he Incident_ in his own mind. Hamilton was extremely surprised that Jefferson hadn't taken the opportunity to tease him mercilessly about his voyeuristic tendency, but chalked it up to Jefferson being too embarrassed by being caught in the act to bring it up. With this hope in mind, Hamilton was able to let himself slowly forget the whole affair- slowly sinking back into the dull gray routine of class, homework, and twitter wars. If he occasionally felt heat creeping up the back of his neck, during class, and turned to see Jefferson staring at him, well he and Jefferson had always been rivals, it would make sense that the other man would glare at him sometimes.

 

And so they went on, in relative normalcy, both of them studiously avoiding one another, orbiting on the edge of each other's realm of awareness, until 15 days after _T_ _he Incident_ , when their paths were finally forced into colliding.

 

_The Revolutionary Times_

 

It was their student paper. Both Jefferson and Hamilton had been members of the staff for the first three years of their high school career, but this was their senior year. The year that one of them would be chosen to become editor of the paper, and more importantly, would be able to leave a lasting impression on the lower-classmen staff that would be taking up the mantle for the years to come, hopefully swaying them into running things the way that they thought things should be run.

 

Both Hamilton and Jefferson felt that they were sure to get the job, based on the unforgiving hours that they had dedicated towards the paper, in past years, clawing their way up from the bottom to earn their rightful spot as top dog. To get the coveted spot as editor, and along with it, the honor of putting that title on their college applications, and most of all, the joy of rubbing it in the other's goddamn face.

 

That was until Washing made _The Announcement_.

 

Hamilton and Jefferson would be co-editors.

 

He said it was for the good of the paper. The people would enjoy hearing two different viewpoints. It was important to make sure that all ideas area heard and not just a few. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.

 

It was fucking bullshit, that's what it was.

 

Hamilton _deserved_ that goddamn job. He worked so hard, for the past three years to get it, and Jefferson had just fucking coasted through, allowing his natural charm and Southern sensibilities to smooth his way forward, when the man had the worst ideas, and constantly tried to prevent Hamilton from writing the articles about the school that so desperately needed to be written.

 

It was an injustice so great that Hamilton should have wanted to burn the building to the fucking ground, and then spit on the ashes, so naturally, when _The Announcement_ was made, all eyes were focused on him.

 

He knew. He knew that he should be in a mindless state of rage, but he couldn't muster it.

 

It felt to him like Washington was one of the teachers in a Charlie Brown cartoon, and he couldn't comprehend the words that were being said. They bounced off of his chest and ricocheted off of the walls, unable to penetrate him. There were twelve gawking faces directed towards him, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say. It should hurt, this betrayal, but he felt nothing.

 

“I need air.”

 

He blurted out the sentence and sprinted from the room. He couldn't handle the stares. The consolatory looks. The questioning glances about why he wasn't raising Hell.

 

He sprinted down his usual path, the one that he hadn't dared to re-visit since _The Incident_ , but right now he was desperate. He needed oxygen, and the air inside the building was too stale, too stagnant, and it was clouding his mind and suffocating him, just like it had been for the last month. He needed to escape, and his legs automatically carried him through his now familiar escape root, down the hall, up the stairs, through the locker room, out the back doors, and into the blessed freedom of the outdoors.

 

As soon as he was outside, he leaned up against the wall and heaved great breaths of frigid October air. The stinging in his lungs slowly grounding him and returning him back to his own mind.

 

“Thought I might find you out here.” The lazy southern drawl alarms him more than the abrupt opening of the locker room door.

 

The burning that he had felt on the back of his neck in class, for the past two weeks is now slowly creeping it's way all the way from the tips of his toes, to the top of his head, and back again, as Jefferson's gaze travels over him.

 

“Well, well, well. When last we met here, I believe that our roles were quite reversed, weren't they _darlin'_?” He was striding towards Hamilton with a predatory gaze, and whatever breath Hamilton had finally managed to regain instantly fled his chest.

 

“Last time, you came plowing out those doors, I was leaning against that very wall. Caught in what should have been a private moment, but it wasn't very private, now was it Hamilton?”

 

Blood rushed to his cheeks as he was finally forced to confront what had happened, and could no longer pretend that he had dreamed it all. A thousand excuses were on the tip of his tongue for why he had stayed and watched, but none of them came out. He stood there, mouth opening and closing wildly, like a fish out of water, as Jefferson continued his lazy journey over towards where he was leaning against the wall.

 

“Well, Darlin' seems like we're going to be working together, for a while, we may as well get to know each other a little better, yeah?” and before Hamilton had a chance to respond, Jefferson's mouth was on his.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The warmth and suction around his dick should have been enough to have his hips arching, body tensing, aching for release, but as he stared down into the eager brown eyes locked on his, the only feeling Alex could muster was an overwhelming desire for this to be over.

 

He leaned back, closed his eyes and focused on the heat and pressure surrounding his cock, and tried to conjure up any image that would help this end as quickly as possible.

 

Unwanted, an image of Jefferson lazily thrusting into a willing mouth appeared in his mind's eye.

 

“Fuck, just like that” he murmured as he thrust up into John's mouth. An eager hum vibrated around him, pushing him just a little bit closer to the brink. No matter how many times he shook his head, the image wouldn't go away. Jefferson's incessant gaze wouldn't leave him be. No matter what he did, he couldn't erase the image of Jefferson's eyes locked on his, as he thrust in and out, in and out.

 

As much as he wished that he could blame his inability to focus on his loving boyfriend's attempts to suck him off on some sort of curse that Jefferson has placed on him, he had to be honest and admit that the magic had been gone since long before he had seen Jefferson shoot his load into someone else's mouth right in front of his eyes.

 

John, God love him, was the perfect boyfriend. He was sweet, considerate, and loving. He had come out to his father, and stood up to his bigotry without fear, because he was so certain that he and Alex were meant to be. Alex, at the time, had also been so sure that they were forever. He had never felt _home_ so strongly as when he was in John's arms. He felt peace. He felt like nothing could ever touch him with John wrapped around him.

 

Even now, as he thought of someone else's mouth to push him towards the edge he felt nothing but affection towards John. John was his life, and always would be.

 

Alex thrust up one more time into the warm, wet cavern of John's mouth, and the pleasure of his release almost drowned out his guilt for picturing someone else's lips covered in his come for just one moment. Then he looked down into John's gleaming eyes, and his heart shot immediately into his throat.

 

“Thanks, babe. That was great”, he managed with a weak smile, as he pulled his pants back up his hips.

 

John's eyes were gleaming. Wet with unshed tears. _Fuck._

 

Alex knew that performance wasn't fooling anyone. Nothing that he had been doing fooled anyone.

 

John looked up through the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes- too proud to let them fall. No matter who knew how fucked up their relationship was getting, it was like John thought that his denial of any issues, and his steadfast, unwavering support of anything that Alex did would immediately fix any issues that they had.

 

His lashes were damp as he looked up at Alex, waiting for any sign that the person who had written him sonnets and promised his unending devotion was in there somewhere.

 

 

Wracked with guilt, and feeling like the scum of the earth for bringing tears to John's eyes, Alex scrambled for ways to end the tension, and to focus attention away from their failing relationship for long enough to give him time to think.

 

“Let's get some ice cream. I'm in some deep need for some pistachio, right now. What do you think, babe?”

 

John's lips quirked up and his eyes softened as though this one request for ice cream reassured him that all of his worries about their relationship had been in vain. His shoulders started to loose some of their tension, and the handsome, reckless, daring glaze that had originally drawn Alex in like a moth to a flame lit up his face.

 

It was like that one request, that one acknowledgment that Alex _wanted_ something, had an actual desire for _something,_ that everything was magically fixed and all of the tension that has been building up in John's shoulder's released.

 

An hour later, with bellies full of ice cream, and conversation dwindling to the dull, inane chatter that it always seemed to be falling back to lately, Alex thought for about the hundredth time that this needed to stop. John didn't deserve this. He was an incredible boyfriend, and it wasn't his fault that things were going badly between them, yet every time Alex looked into his eyes, all he saw was hurt and guilt. Every day featured new ways of John trying desperately to fix whatever was broken between them, trying to put the spark back in Alex's eyes, and then every night ended with John walking away with tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

 

It wasn't fair.

 

“John...” and fuck, there is was, the hopeful gaze, staring up at him, like maybe everything was going to be alright. “John, I think we should end this.” It came tumbling off his tongue before he could think of a better way to phrase it, some way of sugarcoating it, of easing the news, so maybe he wouldn't lose his best friend as well as his lover.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Alex?” His tone was dark and low. It was so unlike the unreserved, caring, devoted tone of voice that John normally addressed him with that Alex had to fight the urge to snap his head around, to see who else could be addressing him.

 

The warm brown eyes that had spent the last two years gazing into his own with love, and adoration, were suddenly unrecognizable. The arms that he had spent so many nights taking comfort in, were clenched in anger, and the man in front of him was so different from the man that he called home, it was like looking at a stranger.

 

“I've spent two years of my life isolated in my own home.” His voice was still calm, and quiet, but the repressed anger seemed to make the air around him vibrate with pent up energy. “Do you have any idea, what it's like to be a stranger in your own home? They don't talk to me, they don't acknowledge me, they would kick me out into the streets, if it wouldn't make my goddamn father's campaign look bad. You know what the one thing that got me through all of that bullshit? Knowing that I had you.”

 

John was still shaking, vibrating with unreleased tension. He slowly rolled his shoulders, then rotate his head side to side, back to front, trying to ease the strain.

 

“Fuck Alex, is this about the sex? I know that you haven't really been into it. For Christ's sake, you just lay there like a rag doll while I was trying to blow you tonight.”

“No. Jesus, John, it's not about the sex. It's not even anything that's bad with us, babe. It's just something. Something I can't really describe. I know it's super fucking cliché to say 'it's not you, it's me', but it really is me, John. I love you. I do. I just think I'm... Broken... and I need to find out how to fix it before we can pick back up.”

 

“Fuck you, Alex. I would have done anything for you. You're a selfish son of a bitch” and with that, John walked away. He walked right to the car that he had driven them there in, got in the driver's seat, and pulled away, without looking back.

 

 _'Well fuck'_ , Alex thought, as he looked around the abandoned ice cream parlor. 'How the hell did you expect to get home, Hamilton? Did you think that you'd break up with your boyfriend and he would just cheerfully offer you a ride home?' He slumped in defeat against one of the benches lined up against the building's outer wall, and closed his eyes for a moment to wallow in self-pity, and try to come up with a plan.

 

There he stayed, for three quarters of an hour, before he heard the roaring of an engine pulling up beside him and he cracked his right eye open in curiosity.

 

Standing there, looking smug as hell, was Thomas-Fucking-Jefferson.

 

“I was told you might be looking for a ride, darlin'. Hop on in.” He jerked his head towards the purple monstrosity of a vehicle that he had pulled up in, turned around and climbed into the driver's seat, without waiting to see if he was even being followed.

 

“Cocky son of a bitch,” Alex murmured under his breath as he unstuck his ass from the bench and shuffled reluctantly towards the car.

 

“This doesn't mean that I'm going to do a goddamn thing that you want me to do with the paper, and I swear to God, Jefferson, if you shove your nasty tongue into my mouth one more time, I'm going to cut it off,” Alex stated as he clambered into the passenger seat and strapped in.

 

“I wouldn't have it any other way, darlin',” Jefferson smirked at him briefly, and then let loose a low chuckle as he pulled out of the ice cream parlor parking lot.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Care to tell me exactly why your _sweet, darling, beloved_ stranded your ass at an ice cream parlor at 10 o'clock at night? Aren't you guys supposed to be practically married?” Jefferson was smirking down at him, laughter shining through his eyes, as Alex squirmed backwards into the warmth of the heated leather seat behind him- hoping against hope that if he tried hard enough, he could just become one with the seat and escape the hellish situation he had gotten himself into.

 

“How did you know that I needed a ride anyways?” Alex asked, ignoring Jefferson's probing questions, and praying that for once he would take a hint and not bring it up again. He glanced quickly back over at Jefferson and saw that his brows were furrowed, staring at him like he was trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

 

Eventually Jefferson shrugged, and carefully wiped the expression from his face. “Lafayette texted me. Seems that Lover Boy drove over to visit him and Herc, and was all kinds of upset. One of the few things that they could make out, between his wracking sobs, was that he had left you at that shithole ice cream parlor. They didn't want to leave him alone in that state, so the messaged me, because apparently they couldn't think of anyone else who would be willing to come and pick your ass up except your pops, and they didn't think you'd want to face him right now.”

 

Alex grimaced at the thought. They definitely weren't wrong there. He loved his foster dad dearly, but the instant he was called to pick Alex up, and heard that John had been the one to strand him there, well there would be no end to the questions. His father was the type to get everyone to share their feelings, and would keep pressing, pressing until everything spilled out of him in a gush of guilt and despair. He definitely wasn't ready for that kind of conversation, and he didn't want to see his dad's face when he heard how he had strung John along and then broken his heart at an ice cream parlor.

 

Alex scooched even further down in his seat, trying to think of a way to avoid that particular conversation as long as possible. He knew that as soon as he walked in that door, his dad was going to know that something was wrong, and want to talk about it, all concerned eyes, and loving support.

 

“Fuck, can we just go somewhere else? Anywhere? If I'm out for like two more hours, my dad should already be asleep when I get home.” He looked over at Jefferson, pleading with his eyes. “I swear to god, I'll do anything.”

 

“You'll do anything?” Jefferson peered down at him, with one eyebrow raised, looking insufferably superior. Unbidden, the image of him together with Madison rose to the forefront of his mind, and he felt his whole face flush.

 

Alex sits back up in his seat, spine straightening, as he defiantly locks eyes with Jefferson. “Anything.”

 

“Alright then.” Jefferson puts on his turning signal and steers the car into a random driveway, so that he can turn around. He doesn't say anything else, as he pulls back into traffic, this time heading back in the direction that they had been coming from. 10 minutes pass, without single word. Jefferson quietly driving along, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning up against the door frame, tapping an idle beat to some unheard song.

 

Alex didn't know where they were going, didn't know what he had just given away in exchange for a few more hours of freedom, and was too scared to really ask. He was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, and with every passing, silent moment, he thought more and more fervently that perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Just as Alex was getting ready to crack under the strain of the silence, and the anxiety of not knowing where they were going, Jefferson pulled onto a deserted road the lead to an empty dirt parking lot for a hiking trail. There was only one light overhead, and as Jefferson pulled into a spot, and cut the engine, it flicked feebly for a moment or two, before finally coming back to full brightness.

 

Still, without a word, Jefferson undid his seat belt, opened the door, and climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Alex wavered for a moment, unable to decide if he should follow, or remain in the relative safety of the car. He still didn't know what Jefferson was going to ask from him in return, and the anxiety of it was tying his stomach up in knots.

 

After a few moments of awkwardly sitting in the car alone, stewing in his own misery, he decided that not knowing was almost certainly worse than whatever Jefferson had in store for him, he unhooked his seat belt and clambered out of the car. With more than a little uncertainty, he walked over to where Jefferson was leaning up against a tree, idly scrolling through something or other on his phone.

 

When he gets a little closer, Jefferson looks up from his phone, as though he only just remembered that Alex was there, locks the screen, and shoves it back into his pocket. He watches Alex, as he slowly ambles towards him, still silent as the grave.

 

Finally, deciding that he couldn't take a single second more of the quiet tension, Alex snapped. He felt his face turn red as his mood made a rapid shift from anxious and uncertain to full blown rage.

 

“What the fuck do you want from me Jefferson? What's the price of all of this?” He flails his arm in wild gesticulation towards their current surroundings. “I get it, you helped me out. Twice even. Picked my stranded ass up, and got me out of an awkward as fuck conversation with my dad. Alright, you've lorded it over me long enough. What do I owe you, you smug son of a bitch?”

 

At the end of his rant, Alex was breathing heavily, his breath was coming out in puffs, creating little clouds in the crisp Fall air. He could feel his hair falling around his face, from where it had broken free from his hair tie, while he was throwing his arms around in frustration, and his face burned so hot that he couldn't even feel the chill around him.

 

Jefferson watched his rant with a bemused smirk on his face, and once the words stopped spilling from his lips, Jefferson pushed himself off the tree and started striding towards him, eyes locked on his the whole time. The corner of his mouth was quirked up, and the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. There was not an ounce of hesitation as he walked towards Alex, still breathing like he had just run a mile, took his face in his hands, leaned in and whispered in his ear.

 

“The front page of the first issue is mine.”

 

Alex felt the words before he heard them. The warm breath caressing his ear, making him shiver. He closed his eyes, and leaned towards Jefferson. The contrast between the warmth of Jefferson's breath and the slight chill of his hands, still resting on his overheated flesh, was undeniably alluring. He turned his face towards Jefferson's, still so close, and leaned in, watching Jefferson's eyelashes flutter closed, his expression slipping from smug to surprised and then finally landing on heated.

 

When their lips were a mere millimeter apart, the words that had drifted around Alex, tantalizing him with their warmth, and their soft Southern accent, finally landed. Sank into his subconscious, and eventually bubbled their way to the front of his mind.

His head snapped back, and everything came sharply back into focus. “Oh, fuck you Jefferson!” He shoved Jefferson hard, and stormed his way back to the car.

 

The bewildered expression on Jefferson's face was almost worth the undying shame of knowing that he almost kissed Thomas Jefferson, of his own free will.

 


End file.
